Date: Sun, 23 May 2004 17:03:04 -0700 (PDT)
From: Lance Kyle <lokiaga@prodigy.net>
Subject: Seaward Plantation chapter three

This story contains graphic but completely fictional
depictions of sex among men and men, and men and underage
boys.  If this offends you, if it is illegal for you to read
or download this, or if you are under 18, please go away.

Seaward Plantation

Chapter three

Mark Appleby slowly awoke to sounds carried through his open
window:  the washing of the sea as waves came ashore, the
crying of sea birds, bits and pieces of shouts and
conversations from the slaves of Seaward Plantation as they
went about their work downstairs and outside.  Utterly
refreshed, he let his mind float back to the passionate sex
of the night before with his two slave boys, Pan and
Bacchus.  Remembered details of each touch, each passionate
thrust, brought a smile to his lips.

Opening his eyes with a start and looking to left and right,
he realized that he was alone in bed; the boys had left some
time during the night or morning.  Rubbing sleep from his
eyes, he sat up, his back momentarily sticking to the sheet.
He smiled when he remembered the cause of that:  Bacchus's
semen had pretty well coated his back and then Appleby had
rolled over onto it.

What time was it now?  Fumbling for his pocket watch beside
the bed, he saw it was ten o'clock in the morning already.
Stretching his muscles, still tired from travel, and moving
slowly, he stood up.  Looking beneath the bed he found a
chamber pot, which he used.  On a dresser he also found a
pitcher of water, a large bowl, towels and a bar of soap.
He silently blessed the boys who had evidently brought that
here in the early morning.  With these he cleaned himself
pretty well from the night before, scrubbing off crusts of
dried semen and any other soil.

Inspecting the wardrobe and dresser drawers, he saw that his
clothes still had not been returned from washing.  Worse,
even the ancient dressing gown he had worn briefly the night
before seemed to have disappeared, perhaps also gone to the
wash.  Trapped! Appleby said to himself with a smile.  He
walked to the open window, drawing the lace curtain across
it to hide his nakedness.

A brilliant blue sky flecked with sailing clouds covered the
sea, visible beyond the lawn surrounding the house and the
woods beyond that.  He knew from the records left to him by
Horatio Smith that the island was about sixty acres, not
huge but large enough to sustain some vegetable crops and
livestock and to provide some variety in terrain.  Down
below just beyond the roof of the verandah, his attention
was suddenly riveted by the sight of his two thirteen year
old slave boys, Pan and Bacchus, each with a large bundle in
his arms.  They were on their way into the house from one of
the smaller stone outbuildings.  Memories of last night's
passionate sex flooded Appleby's memory, and he smiled to
himself, while an involuntary stiffness sprang to life in
his groin.  Then he noticed that the boys had stopped to
talk to Hector, the fourteen year old boy who had fetched
him from Charleston harbor the day before with his older
brother, Troy.  Heads leaning close, the three boys, two
caramel colored and one a deep chocolate brown, seemed
whispering with animation.  Then Pan and Bacchus broke away
and headed toward the house, out of sight under the roofline
of the verandah.  Hector swung his head to look directly at
his window, a look of wonder, disbelief, and amusement on
his face.  Suddenly aware of what might well have been their
topic of conversation, Appleby quickly ducked out of sight
behind the curtain.  Hector nodded his head as if to
himself, flashed another of his brilliant smiles, and walked
off thoughtfully.

Appleby heard the kind of crashing on the stairs that only
two thirteen year old boys in a hurry could make, then a
sudden quiet and the slow opening of the door.  As the door
fell back, both boys were revealed standing cautiously in
the doorway, quickly surveying the scene.  A wave of sudden
shyness and reserve came over their faces, unsure of their
reception after last night's passionate excesses.  They
slipped quickly into the room, closing the door behind them.

"We came with your clothes, Master Mark, sir," said Bacchus,
his head bowed and waiting.

"Mama Cass says the heavier clothes will be dry later, we'll
bring them up then," said Pan, likewise quiet, waiting, with
a carefully neutral look on his bowed face.  Both boys
avoided looking directly at their naked white master, whose
penis was by now half erect.

"Thank you, boys.  Would you please set the clothes down
over there," Appleby said, indicating the dresser and a
sofa.  The boys did as they were told, then stood waiting.

"Come here," he said.  Clouds of worry crossed their sunny
faces as the two boys approached their master, stopping two
feet away.  Appleby looked down at first one and then
another, sensing their uncertainty and confusion.  The boys
held their heads bowed down, but were now gazing at their
master's penis, which was slowly rising--they exchanged
quick sidelong glances with one another.

Appleby hooked the index finger of each hand under each
boy's chin and drew them gently closer.  "Thank you," he
said, lifting Bacchus's chin and kissing his full lips, "for
last night," he continued, lifting Pan's chin and kissing
him likewise.  Both boys loudly exhaled, broke into sly
grins, and rushed their master, holding his chest and belly
tight.  Appleby gathered both slave boys to him with his
arms, embracing them in return, sliding his hands under
their rough shirts to massage their smooth, muscular backs.
Their hugs grew tighter.  His hand slid down to their
waistbands, secured by a length of thin rope, meeting
resistance.  Both boys stepped back quickly and writhed out
of their clothes.  Shirts came off with a flailing of arms,
slim brown fingers fumbled at waists while smiles grew, then
off came pants and thin loincloths.  Each boy grabbing one
of his master's hand, and Appleby being fully willing, they
rushed for the bed.

The white man and his two black slave boys tumbled like
puppies onto the rumpled sheets.  Nobody held any position
for long before reaching for another body, grasping another
warm skin.  If the night before was a storm of driving,
machine-like passion and desire, this was a morning of
exploration, delight, and joy.  Man and boys were exploring
each other, he uncovering the secrets of their bodies while
they discovered his.

Appleby murmured with delight as he first ran his fingers
and then mashed his nose, his lips, into the tightly curled
peppercorns of their scalp hair--then the looser whorls
forming small tufts under their arms, which he licked and
kissed as they twisted with pleasure, and the small patches
just above their penises.  The boys called each other to run
their fingers through Appleby's shoulder-length light brown
hair, so soft and light, then in turn his underarm hair, the
triangle of light hair at the center of his chest, the line
of silken strands that ran between well developed abdominal
muscles to the cloud of soft hair above his penis, hair
which they pulled into their mouths to suck and feel,
humming with pleasure.  Appleby moistened his fingers with
each boy's saliva and then ran them over their lilly-like
lips, so full and curving outward, clearly defined lines
separating them from the caramel skin.  At the same time,
each boy in his turn ran a single fingertip over the thin,
pink lips of his master, and each boy giggled as the white
man caught the finger in his mouth and playfully bit it.

Pan and Bacchus ran their palms over their master's
pink/tan/white skin, marveling at the flecks of pink and red
freckles, sucking on his deep rose nipples, brushing the
soft hairs on his arms and lower legs, giggling with the
holiday spirit of freedom at doing such a thing to a white
man.  Their master sucked and kissed their necks, then
shoulders, then the broad, thin planes of their chests and
raisin nipples, the rippled skin of their bellies,
discovering highlights of dark gold and chocolate flecked in
the dark caramel, tasting the sweet skin until neither boy
had any part he had not tongued.  He looked with delight at
their lighter, tan colored palms and soles of the feet,
tracing the darker colored lines that ran across them.
Appleby peeled back the foreskins from the long heads of
their cocks, like dark brown tulips on long, slim stems, the
unhooded glans a lighter color than the dark purplish skin.
Drops of clear precum oozed out as he slowly kneaded each
penis, squeezing out drops like pearls.  The boys took turns
looking closely at the skinned back penis of their master,
tracing the blue veins under the skin, loving its dark pink
color and the heavy weight of the shaft and the ballsack
beneath it.  Lying mouth to genitals, man and boys spent
long minutes looking, touching, tasting, bending, pumping.

Ecstasy came as a surprise to them all.  Lying on top of his
master, sucking on the white man's balls while slowly moving
his penis in and out of his master's mouth, Pan came before
he knew what was happening, his young body less easy to
control than his master's.  Without warning he arched his
chest and face up from his master's groin, pressed his own
penis down into Appleby's mouth, and cried out, "Aaaah!
ahhh!" as his semen flowed out steadily.  Falling off his
master's body just enough to let Bacchus take his place, Pan
lay there with both arms around one white leg, holding it
tight and panting, a thin line of clear liquid and white
semen oozing out of his penis onto his master's ribcage.
Bacchus took up the task of sucking his master, while
Appleby gladly took this second black boy's cock into his
mouth already slick with cum.  Pan had done most of the work
needed, though:  within seconds, Appleby's torso tensed, his
thighs tightened while his buttocks clenched, moving a
volcano of semen into the waiting mouth of Bacchus, who
greedily swallowed his master's seed for the first time.
Appleby's arms tightened around the perfectly curved,
bubbled bottom floating above his face while he sucked
harder on his slave boy's penis.  Bacchus exploded in one
huge rush of semen, shouting in a hoarse roar that sounded
like the man he would grow into some day, then rolled off
onto the other side of his master from Pan, gasping for
breath.

Man and boys lay like that recovering their breath; slowly
one and then another sat up on the bed, and all three,
sighing happily and sitting cross-legged, leaned in for a
happy embrace.  Aware of all he had yet to do, Appleby
kissed both boys lightly, then leaped out of bed and sponged
himself again at the basin, the boys coming around to help
with washcloths, hands, and towels.  Each boy followed suit
to clean himself at the basin, and all three dressed.
Looking at his watch again, and seeing it was nearing noon,
Appleby embraced each slave boy quickly and went downstairs,
leaving them to restore his room and bedding to order.

Reaching the first floor, Appleby entered the dining room
where Mama Cass, Mama Juno, and Athena were just finishing
preparations for his lunch of vegetables and a simple
farmer's cheese, all made on the island.  His gaze rested on
Mama Juno's dark caramel color, so similar to that of her
sons upstairs.  He wondered how much she knew of their
activities last night and this morning, and whether she
minded.  Her manner toward him seemed no different, quietly
respectful and businesslike.

For this meal, the two older women rushed off to attend to
other duties as soon as the lunch was placed before Mark.
As he ate, Athena bussled about quietly, serving him as
needed.  Her answers to his questions about the plantation,
the location of buildings, how the cheese was made and so
forth were friendly and respectful but shy.  Watching her
while he ate, Appleby asked, "Athena, when is your baby
due?"

"Any day now, Master.  Seems like I'm ready for it, too,"
she said, a shy smile spreading over her beautiful face
which shared the family coloring, the same out-turned
trumpet lips as her mother and brothers.  Appleby thought
once more of Athena lying with Troy and the passion that had
brought her to this time, two beautiful and strong bodies
rutting in animal rhythm.  All of a sudden he was overcome
with an inner conviction as strong as his need to speak it:

"Athena--when your baby is born, it will be beautiful."

She stopped in surprise, a little more stunned to hear him
say such a thing than he was to have said it.  A look of
wonder replaced surprise, and then a look of calm pride as
she drew herself up and replied, "Yes, Master, thank you--I
believe it will be, too."  The two looked at each other
smiling in nearly a conspiratorial way.  The moment was
broken by Priam's entering the room and removing his straw
hat.

"Good afternoon, Master, sir, I expect you were very tired
from the journey," he rumbled in his deep base voice.
"Hello, Athena," he said, acknowledging his daughter-in-law,
who smiled in return.  "Papa Priam," she replied.

"Master Mark, sir, I expect you will want to see the rest of
the plantation and the island today?"  Appleby eagerly
agreed.  "I will get one of the boys to show you, if that is
alright, as Troy and I are bringing in hay," he said.  "And
if you have letters you wish to send, or notices to go into
town, Troy sails out to meet the mail boat as it passes by
about three o'clock this afternoon, sir."

Pleasantly surprised at this unexpected arrangement, Appleby
immediately went to the study, where he wrote several
letters he had decided to send, and a note to Horatio Smith.
Emerging into the hallway he found Mama Juno, and asked her
to give the letters to Troy.  She agreed; but he thought a
small wrinkle of concern creased her brow as she saw the
note to Smith.

The day was sunny and pleasant, and Appleby decided to
forego wearing a coat.  Selecting a walking stick from a
collection in a stand in the hallway, he began to move
toward the front door but was nearly run over by the twins
rushing ahead of him from the stairs.

"We're going to take you on your tour, Master Mark!" said
Bacchus, full of eagerness.  "Yes, we'll show you
everything," said Pan, with a knowing look.  Both boys
pushed out the front door ahead of Appleby.  There they ran
smack into Hector, who stood at the top of the stairs
leading down to the lawn, a heavy cloth bag over his
shoulder.

"No, he said.  I am taking Master Mark on the tour."  It was
not angry or hostile, it was simply a clear statement of
what was going to happen.  Although only a year older than
the twins, Hector at that moment radiated an unmistakable
spirit of masculine authority.  Pan and Bacchus stopped in
surprise, looked at each other and their master with wide
eyes, and then quickly agreed.  Their high spirits
recovered, they returned to the house to do chores, while
bidding their master a good day.

"Well, Hector, it seems that you won out!" said Appleby,
smiling.  Shy now with the adult man, despite his victory,
Hector's dark face was nevertheless split by a dazzling
smile as he hung his head momentarily.  Perking up, he said,
"Master, are you ready to go?  I can show you everything,
and I brought along a picnic," indicating the cloth bag he
carried.  "Lead on!" said Appleby.

With growing pride and confidence, Hector led the way, first
showing his master the outbuildings around the main house.
At the outhouse Hector retreated a few steps while his
master went inside to make use of it.  It was hardly the
modern convenience Appleby was used to in Boston, but he
supposed it would make do.  Divided between a male side and
a female side, he was pleasantly surprised that the smell
was not as offensive as he had feared.  Inspecting the
structure afterwards, he discovered that it sat on an
incline and that the lower parts were open from the back,
with a system of ventilation.  Straw was thrown over the
leavings, as were kitchen scraps.  It was in effect an
effective composting system for the plantation's gardens.

Moving on, Hector showed his master the laundry building,
the kitchen, the smokehouse, and simple workshops.  Sacks of
grain filled the loft of a barn, where hung preserved hams
and sausages, as well as dried fish.  Master and slave boy
also walked past the cabins where the servants lived.  Mama
Juno had her own now that the twins had effectively moved
into the main house.  Hector knocked at the door of his
parents' home and, hearing no word from Priam or Mama Cass,
entered and invited Appleby in.  Clean, well built, and
simple, with sanded wooden walls and floors, the ground
floor was one large room with chairs, a straw bed by a
window in the corner, a small iron stove for heating and
simple cooking, lanterns, even homemade art and wood
carvings on the walls and table.  A ladder led to a loft
upstairs.

"Is that where you stay?" Appleby inquired.

"No, Master, my sister Helen stays there."  He pulled the
door to the cabin behind him as they stepped outside.  "I
stay in the loft of Troy and Athena's cabin," he continued,
gesturing to a similar structure across and down the path.

"They don't mind your sleeping there?" asked Appleby in some
surprise.

"No, Master," said Hector, suddenly shy.  Appleby dropped
the subject in deference to Hector's silence.

They walked on to explore the larger grounds beyond the
immediate area of the main house.  Small, well tended fields
of hay and wheat grew, separated by lines of trees.  When
Appleby looked closely he could see they were fruit and nut
trees.  The plantation was well organized to be as self-
sustaining as possible, and with the supplies stored in
barns and the cellar beneath the main house, it could
survive long stretches of bad weather or isolation from the
mainland.  Cattle, chickens, and pigs were in their proper
enclosures, and a single donkey for the donkey cart.

Three natural springs dotted the island, generating tiny
creeks that ran through cuts down to the sea.  These and a
few well water pumps provided the island with all the fresh
water the inhabitants needed.  Hector led the way toward a
path that ascended the one feature that might reasonably be
called a small hill.  Following behind, Appleby found
himself strongly stirred by the bottom of the slave boy who
went in front of him, moving and straining beneath the cloth
of his breeches as he walked.  Before yesterday he would not
have allowed himself to think, to imagine, about such
things, but he did now.  Reflecting as well as enjoying, he
decided that for most white males he had known, the shape of
the buttocks was such that they curved down, the lobe of the
bottom (so to speak) on the lower end, just above the
thighs.  But he had found no such thing with the African
males of Seaward, especially Priam and his sons, Hector and
Troy.  Their butts pushed up, a gentle curve rounding the
tops of the buttocks.  It created an indentation that marked
the beginning of the spine, which then ran up a markedly
indented valley between two long hills of strong back
muscle.  Picking up the pace, his eyes were never more than
a few short feet away from the strong, tight butt of his boy
slave; he hardly saw the scenery for taking in this more
pleasurable sight.  Twice, as the path grew rocky, Hector
reached back and offered his master his dark brown hand.
Appleby gratefully took it for the help up, and Hector
smiled, pleased at being able to help his master, holding on
until his master released his grasp.

At the top of the hill was a simple cemetery.  Weathered
stone and wood markers showed the resting places of the two
groups of Seaward:  white people on one side, black people
on the other, but with no fence or barrier between them,
merging together into the earth as they had, inevitably, in
life.  Appleby and Hector caught their breath as they
surveyed the scene.  From the spot the entire island could
be seen, as well as the smudge of Charleston in the
distance.  On the west side, toward the mainland, Appleby
could see the island's boat under a single sail, with Troy
at the helm, slowly intercept a larger craft heading toward
the port.  It was too far to tell with certainty, but
Appleby supposed that he was handing off the mail Appleby
was sending, and perhaps receiving any that was directed to
the island.  Standing on top of their world, Hector put his
bag to the ground for rest.  Next to him, Appleby put his
arm around his slave boy's neck, hand dangling down over his
chest.

"Thank you for showing me all this," he said.

Surprised, Hector looked up quickly at his master with a
bright grin, then lowered his head shyly.  "You don't have
to thank me, Master, it's my job."  Then, in confusion, he
added, in a softer voice, "Anyway, I want to do it for you."
Appleby felt a surge of affection for this shy boy-man, and
opened his palm to rub Hector's chest lightly.  The boy
leaned into his master ever so slightly.  His solidity gave
Appleby a flash of insight:  Hector was in many ways a man
inside a boy's body, five feet tall or a little over, with
signs of a strong male character about to burst forth in the
coming years.  Master and slave boy stood like that for a
minute, then Hector looked up and asked, "Want to go down to
the beach, Master?"  Appleby readily agreed, and they
collected bag and walking stick to follow another path down
to the sea.

They were on the eastern side of the island, away from the
western cove that looked over to Charleston.  Here there was
real, sandy beach, about fifty yards of it that stretched to
the sea.  Some sort of palm tree grew at the top fringe of
the beach, mixed with scraggly evergreens.  Hector led the
way to the south.  Appleby followed happily, stopping to
pick up pieces of driftwood or interesting stone, studying
the occasional large boulder that lay on the sand.  Hector
swerved inland at a place where the line of sand made a sort
of natural land-cove among the trees, creating a protected
spot surrounded by green and out of the sun.  Here Hector
opened his bag and pulled out a large sheet which he began
to spread on the spot, Appleby readily helping him.  Out of
the bag came a flask of water, some cold chicken, a stone
crock of butter, fruit, and a loaf of freshly baked, whole
grain bread.  Hector offered the water to Appleby who took a
deep swig, and then offered it back to Hector.  Looking at
his master to see whether he meant the offer, Hector
accepted the flask and drank gratefully.  Then Appleby
reached for it again and put his lips to the same hole from
which his slave boy had just drunk, and took another sip.
He smiled at Hector, who dipped his head and looked away,
confused as to what this intimacy meant.

Man and boy stood looking at the sea, enjoying the breeze--
and Appleby enjoying the figure of his slave boy, standing
just a little between him and the sea.  An idea took form in
his mind, an idea that would have remained only that before
yesterday.  But freed by his experiences on Seaward
Plantation in the last twenty-four hours, Appleby decided to
act on it.

"Do you want to swim, Hector?"  he asked.  Hector turned
around and flashed a bright smile, nodded his head quickly
in agreement.  He hadn't had time to think of what that
meant.  Appleby bent over to pull off the short boots that
he wore, then straightened up and quickly removed the shirt
he wore, now damp with perspiration from their walk.
Hector's full lips parted and eyes grew wide in surprise.
He could not remove his eyes from his master's muscular
chest and the small hills of his abdominal muscles, the
deeply indented navel.  Hector did not have time to recover
from this revelation, for Appleby, standing straight as a
rod with his eyes on his slave boy the entire time,
unfastened his trousers and slid them and his undergarment
down in one motion, kicking them off to the side as they
reached his feet.

Hector swallowed so hard that Appleby could hear it from six
feet away.  The slave boy was absolutely gaping at the white
man who stood naked before him, the first such body he had
ever seen, with its play of very light tan, pink, and white
skin.  His eyes opened even wider at the sight of his
master's seven inch long penis, now visibly growing and
slowly moving out from the master's thigh.

"Hector?" prodded Appleby, trying not to smile outwardly as
much as he was inwardly, pleased with the effect he knew he
was having on his black slave boy.  As if startled from a
dream, Hector made a quick decision--really, the only
decision he could make under the circumstances.  He kicked
off his simpler shoes, tore off his plain shirt and dropped
the rough trousers he wore on the sand.  Hesitating, looking
quickly into his master's eyes for any sign of disapproval,
he tugged down the loincloth he wore and, as it tumbled to
the shore, stood there naked, six feet away from his master.

Appleby had become used to the lithe, taut bodies of the
twins over the last day.  Here was something different:  the
burgeoning body of a man taking form on the frame of a
fourteen year old boy.  A slight sheen of perspiration and
oil coated Hector's skin of deep bittersweet chocolate,
highlighting the long, smooth muscles that rolled up into
bulges on the shoulders, arms, and legs, that made regular,
rolling hills down his belly.  His chest was two rounded
pads of muscle, showing strength and development where the
twins' chests were flatter, his nipples two prunes where the
twins had raisins.  His slight movements as he cast his
clothing aside made his muscles move with strength and
authority beneath the dark, dark brown skin.  Hills of
muscles grew tight on his thighs, which were like two
pillars of oak.  As he turned to one side to kick his
clothing away, Hector's high, tight, ample butt was visible,
so much more muscular than the twins', a pad of muscle
seeming to lift them up toward his back.  Appleby caught
sight of short sprays of wiry black hair tufted under his
arms.  At the base of his belly was a nest, not of the tight
peppercorns the twins sported but of wiry, long black hairs
spreading over and around the sides of his genitals.  Boy
though he was, his eight inch penis was larger than his
master's, whose attention was arrested by the magnificent
organ.  Stories and whispers from his Boston childhood
returned to him, legends of the superior masculine
endowments of the black man.  It seemed to be true in this
case.  His penis was longer than his master's, and somewhat
thicker.  It seemed outsized for the somewhat smaller head,
hooded in skin still despite the fact that it, like his
master's cock, was slowly rising and filling.  If Hector's
skin was dark chocolate, his penis and the heavy, pendulous
sack behind it, were blacker than black, black with
suggestions of purple and blue deep within the skin.

Man and boy stood transfixed for a moment, then Appleby
broke the spell and ran to the sea, laughing, calling to his
slave to follow.  Hector followed, and with heavy cocks
swinging, man and boy splashed into the sea.  Appleby turned
when waist deep and splashed the boy as the water came up to
his chest.  Pleased at the attention, Hector returned a
tentative splash that one could have read as an accident,
unsure how far to go with his master.  When Appleby laughed
and splashed back, Hector returned fire with a right good
will, and man and boy frolicked in the gentle waves.  Wiping
his face from a particular strong surge, Hector looked
around and could not see Appleby.  Fear for a moment that he
had lost his master at the height of such a pleasurable
moment seized him.  Then he felt strong arms under the water
seize his legs and pull him under.  Appleby, a powerful
swimmer trained in the sea off Massachusetts, had swum under
water and tackled his slave boy around the knees.  Man and
boy broke water again, laughing and shouting.

Appleby wiped the salt water from his eyes and then it was
his turn to look around in wonder at the disappearance of
his slave.  He had not long to wait, for Hector, following
his master's lead, was swimming towards the white man
underwater.  Not yet daring enough to physically tackle his
master, though, Hector swooped up out of the sea just in
front of Appleby, propelling himself out of the water with
his powerful legs.  Surprised, Appleby instinctively reached
out both arms, catching his slave boy under the arms with
his hands on the boy's rib cage.  Quick as a flash, and just
as instinctively, Hector reached his hands out and grasped
his master's upper arms, dark brown fingers closing around
the fair, tanned skin over smooth, rounded muscle.  He sank
back down to his feet, but man and boy were by then in an
embrace neither had planned.  For a moment they both stood
in plain surprise, looking each other closely in the eyes,
the white man's hands on his slave's side ribs, the boy
holding his master's upper arms just below the shoulder.

Lightning might have struck at that moment.  Appleby's hands
slid completely around Hector and pulled him close, one hand
pulling at the long planes of muscular back, the other
reaching down to grab the prominent buttocks.  Hector kept
his hands on his master's arms, but slid willingly into the
embrace.  Appleby and his black slave boy pulled into each
other, their erect penises standing upright between their
bellies and meeting, rubbing together in the sea water.
Their faces close together, Appleby looked deep into
Hector's eyes, dark as well water.  He kissed the broad,
rounded nose, the dense lines of eyebrows, and then the
lips.  Hector's upper lip was pleasantly full, but not as
large as his lower lip, which curved away sweet and moist as
a fruit, slick and shiny as a plum.  Black and white mouths
met, Hector's tongue frantically, wildly invading his
master's mouth, all restraint now gone.

"Kiss slowly," breathed Appleby into his slave's ear, then
returned to the kiss.  Taking the hint, Hector's tongue
joined Appleby's in a dance of exploration rather than
conquest, and for a moment they both sucked on one another,
taking lips into mouths, running tongues over the ridges of
white teeth, playing with the tips of their tongues.
Hector's hands slid off his master's arms and around to his
back, and he pulled tight.  His strength reminded Appleby
again that although fourteen, he was something more than a
boy.  A man's passion and desire fueled a boy's body, and
Appleby and the slave boy for a moment met each other's
passion and strength equally, struggling to see who could
caress and fondle the hardest.

Both broke off as if by agreement at the same time, and
holding hands they ran back up the short sandy beach.
Breaking ahead a bit, Hector threw himself on his back on
the cloth he had earlier spread for their picnic, opening
his arms to receive his master.  Appleby nearly dove into
him.  Master pushed down, grinding his penis into his
slave's lower belly, while the boy pushed upward just as
hard in return, and with both arms tight around his master's
back, pulled him down into himself.  Struggling, whimpering
with effort and passion, man and man-boy kept up this locked
struggle for a moment.  Then Hector parted his thighs and
slipped his legs around his master's lower back, crossing
his ankles together over his master's bottom.  Thrusting
down again, Appleby's rampant penis encountered something
that made the boy wince and cry out softly.  Appleby
suddenly realized what it was; his penis had prodded the
wrinkled asshole of his slave boy, and slick though it was
with precum, it was not slick enough to go farther.

Appleby thought quickly.  This was all new territory to him,
but of course he had heard the whispers and stories from
other boys in his teen years.  Hector kept his ankles
crossed over his master's hips, and seemed to be waiting for
what was to come next, looking with trust and desire into
Appleby's face.  Deciding to explore the new territory
before him, Appleby looked around desperately.  The stone
crock of butter!  Set out for their picnic, it was within
easy reach.  Pushing quickly off of his slave boy, Appleby
reached for the crock and peeled off its covering.  Appleby
squatted on his haunches and reached into the crock, coming
up with a wad of semi-soft butter.  He pushed Hector's legs
up and back, the boy's knees approaching his brown chest.
He smeared the butter all over his rampant, aching penis,
and then over his slave boy's dark brown, wrinkled asshole.
Pushing a finger into the hole brought a yelp from Hector.
Moving more gently, he moved his finger in circles, taking
care to smear more butter inside with each revolution.
Slowly he felt the circle loosen.  Removing his finger he
grasped his hard penis, placed the swollen purple head of it
at his boy slave's love hole, and pushed it in with one
steady shove.

Hector gasped and held his breath.  Involuntarily his hands
reached out for his master's torso.  But as his master began
to slowly move in and out of him the pain changed.  It
became a pain-with-pleasure.  Still rocking on his haunches,
Appleby could not take his eyes away from his deep pink and
purple penis sliding in and out of the dark chocolate bottom
of the boy.  Shifting position, he leaned out over the boy,
stretching his legs straight back as Hector wrapped his legs
around his master once more.

Man and boy, master and slave, black and white, the two
became one as they struggled together, locked together
physically, Appleby's chest and belly now sliding against
his slave boy's torso, lubricated by sweat and by the precum
from Hector's rampant penis which still extended between
them.  Appleby buried his face into the neck of his slave
boy, sucking and licking the skin, then sucking and chewing
his dark earlobe, breathing heavily into the ear.  His hair,
still wet from the sea, lay in strands across Hector's face.
Pantings became language as he began to repeat the boy's
name, "Hector, Hector" in rhythm to his pumping.  Appleby's
hips soon began pistoning in and out, picking up speed like
a locomotive, until, also like a train, he slammed forward
into his slave boy, filling his guts with what felt like
pints of white man's semen.

Slumped over the squirming boy, Appleby took great gulps of
air into his lungs--but not for long.  Aware of the
remaining needs of the twisting slave beneath him, Appleby
pushed up off of him and rocked back on his heels with his
thighs bracing against the boy's bottom and his still-hard
penis still impaling the boy's asshole.  Reaching his hands
underneath the boy's lower back to hold it up, Appleby
curled forward and, thankful for his agility, was able to
take the first half of the boy's hard, slick penis into his
mouth.  Hector's legs were now locked around his master's
lower back, his master's penis still inches inside of him,
his own penis sliding in and out of his master's warm mouth.
Hector's torso curled up and forward and he dug his elbows
in the sand to support himself.  His face was inches away
from the top of his master's head, the long hair of the
white man flicking Hector in the face as his head flailed up
and down on the boy's black cock.  The sight and the feeling
was more than Hector could stand and he violently erupted in
Appleby's mouth.  His legs unhooked from around his master
and, feet slamming onto the cloth, he pushed his groin up
into his master's face.  Appleby's cock popped out of the
slave boy's ass with the force of the explosion.  Again and
then again he slammed upwards, filling his master's mouth
and belly with his potent young semen.  Then it ended and he
collapsed flat on his back, his master coming down in
exhaustion on top of him.

The master and his slave boy breathed in rhythm with each
other, slowing, their spirits floating in peace.  Each ran
his fingers through the other's hair, smiling in delight at
the difference in textures.  Then Appleby pushed himself off
and stood, regarding for a moment the naked, nearly black
figure of his slave spread-eagled on the cloth beneath him.
Appleby extended his hand and Hector grasped it, allowing
himself to be pulled up into a gentle embrace.  Then
wordlessly, Appleby turned and, taking the boy's hand again,
ran into the sea to bathe.

They exchanged no words but laughter and smiles, then
returned from the sea to the cloth, arms around each other's
shoulders.  Hector put out the picnic supplies, as the sun
was dipping towards the horizon, eagerly helping his master
to the good, simple food they had with them.  When he
offered the remaining butter they both laughed, and spread
it upon their bread with extra zest, nudging and winking at
each other.  The meal done, they lay side by side, speaking
in low throaty voices of small things:  the setting sun, the
feel of the sea, the soft shore breeze, the different birds
in the trees above.  Time came to leave, and they wrapped up
the picnic things in the bag Hector had brought.  Hector led
the way to a path that took them up a gentle incline back
towards the main house.  Walking now beside the boy, now a
few steps behind him, Appleby thought he saw something new:
a manly swagger, a confidence in his step, so different from
the equally delightful frisking of Pan and Bacchus.

Twilight had fallen deeply when the path split, close to the
main house.  "I have to go down this way to take these
things to Mama Juno," said Hector.  If you go that way
you'll go by the cabins and straight on to the big house,"
he continued as he gestured down the other path.  Then,
before Appleby could make any move, Hector dropped the bag,
pulled his master to him and hugged him fiercely, kissed him
softly on the lips, then grabbed the bag and disappeared
wordlessly in the twilight down the other path.

Appleby watched him go, his heart full.  Then he continued
on his way silently, treading on the soft pine needles that
carpeted the path.  The cabins were still dark as he
approached them.  Feeling a need to urinate, he swerved off
the path to walk the rear of a cabin to relieve himself
against a tree, then continued on with the intention of
returning to the path.

It was then that he heard sounds, not exactly voices but
human, coming from the cabin behind which he had peed, and
he saw a window with a light inside and a curtain drawn
partways across.  The night was nearly dark now.
Approaching the window stealthily he peeked in, aware that
since the room was lighted from inside as well as curtained,
its occupants would not be able to see him.  Holding his
breath for quiet, he crept up to the window and peeked
through a convenient hole in the curtain to see what was
making the sounds.  It was Priam, buck naked, on his knees
and powerfully fucking Mama Cass whose strong, wide bottom
was presented to him as dogs do it while her chest and
shoulders rested on the bed.  Low, rhythmic moans came from
her with each slam of her husband's penis into her vagina.
Priam was muttering words under his breath that Appleby
could only half make out.

Time was when Appleby might have maneuvered to keep the
woman in sight through the hole in the curtain, but that
time was before his experiences of these two days on the
island.  Now he felt a hunger to see the man whose son he
had just fucked on the beach.  With Priam's figure opposite
the center of the window, Appleby found that if he moved one
way he could see Priam's powerful buttocks clench and
unclench rapidly as he slammed his penis into his wife.  He
had the same high, tight ass as his sons, unslackened by his
fifty years.  Appleby smiled as he recognized the upward
rounded countours of the bottom that he now knew so well.
Sweat streaming down the older man's dark back gleamed in
the lantern light.  Shifting to another angle and peering
through another hole, Appleby could see more of Priam's
great lobes of chest muscles that bounced and clenched as he
rode his wife, could see his well-muscled abdomen tightened
hard in the effort of his labor.  His older, still handsome
face mouthed words and grimaced in pleasure and struggle.

Unfortunately, Appleby had arrived late in the game, for
soon Priam gave a great shout that Appleby was sure must
bring someone running, bucked hard four times, then
collapsed onto his wife's padded bottom, pushing both of
them down to the bed.  Afraid that the commotion would bring
someone to investigate, Appleby pulled away from the window,
feeling despite his own efforts of the day a swelling in his
groin.  He tiptoed softly on the pine needles around the far
end of the cabin, thinking to slip back to the path and on
to the main house.  As he cleared the corner of the house
and had but a few steps to the path, he looked back and saw
sitting on the simple front porch of the cabin the figure of
a boy dressed in white clothing that caught the last of the
fading light.  Caught!  Appleby said to himself, then looked
closer and realized it was no boy but instead the eleven
year old daughter of the couple he had just seen, the sister
of the boy whose flesh he had penetrated on the beach:  It
was Helen.  She was looking right at him.  Then she put her
fingers to her lips and--it was so hard to tell in the dark,
had she winked at her master?  A shy smile flashed white
teeth in the dark.  With nothing else to do about it,
Appleby smiled and winked back, waved, and slipped away
quickly on the path.

Coming into the main house a few minutes later, he found Pan
and Bacchus waiting for him in the library, reading books in
the library.  They leaped up when they saw their master
enter and frolicked round him with cries of "Oh Master!  we
have missed you!" and "Did that Hector show you everything?
Was he good to you?" and "We have fresh clean sheets on the
bed for you!" and other exclamations of joy and
solicitation.  They seemed pleased and even relieved when he
assured them that Hector had indeed given him a very good
afternoon--but of course, he spared them details.

The boys were all for drawing their master another bath, but
he told them that he had bathed in the sea--twice!  They
agreed that a sea bath was better than the tub, and so
bringing the lanterns with them they led the way to the
stairs up to the second floor.  There was a boy on either
side of him, telling him news of their own activities,
plucking at his shirt to gain his attention away from a
brother, holding and squeezing his hand when they wished to
emphasize a particularly important point, chattering all the
while.

Once in Appleby's bedroom, the boys worked quickly to make
it comfortable.  A wind was up off of the sea, and clouds
were gathering, scudding across the moon; it seemed as if a
storm might come up, and the temperature was dropping a few
degrees.  Pan lowered the windows that were open against the
chance of rain.  Bacchus helped his master to wash up,
showing him the full pitcher of water by the basin, handing
him the soap and towel as he needed them.  Pan came up as
Appleby was drying his hands and face and said,

"Master, do you need this?"  He was holding the chamber pot.
Despite having relieved himself behind Priam and Cass's
cabin, Appleby felt that he could do so again before
sleeping.  Pulling his penis out, it seemed natural to
urinate into the porcelain pot held by the two brown hands.
Bacchus craned his head around to see the proceedings as
well, both boys studying their master's organ as much in
curiousity as desire.  Shaking out the last drops, Appleby
continued to disrobe, not stopping at his underwear but
becoming naked entirely.  The boys stowed the chamber pot
away quickly and returned their attention to their master,
standing quietly and smiling, awaiting orders.

"Boys--Bacch, Pan, prepare for bed.  Would you," he said,
hesitantly, "would you like to sleep with me tonight?"

"Yes!" they both said with hasty delight, and rushed into
the adjoining dressing room.  When they emerged naked
moments later, Appleby was sitting up in bed with the covers
around his waist.  The two naked brown teenage slaves,
smiling broadly, ran for the four-poster bed, slim brown
penises half erect and flopping, and crawled under the
covers with him.  All three had felt a temperature drop in
the last few minutes and were grateful in that moment just
to snuggle in together.  Appleby was happy and at peace,
reclining back against the full, stacked pillows with a
caramel brown boy on each side.  Indeed, he was happy
enough, and tired enough from the day's sexual labors
already, that he said to himself that it was enough to be
there like that.

Reaching across Bacchus, who was on the side closest to his
bedside table, he turned down the wick on the oil lamp until
it went out.  A few rays of moonlight from time to time came
through the gathering clouds into the room.  The boys seemed
to understand that tonight would be a time of physical
closeness but not necessarily physical passion--a time for
touch but not for grasping.

"Tell us about when you were a boy, Master Mark, sir," said
Pan.

"Oh?  That wasn't that long ago, you know!" he said, which
solicited giggles from the boys.  He pulled them close, arms
around each, rubbing gently on sides, backs, hips.  They
cuddled close to their master, curling the hair from his
head, underarms, and chest around their fingers.  Appleby
began stories of summers at Cape Cod, of games on the lawn,
of favorite toys.  Soon the boys, enchanted by tales of
wonder from far away Boston, fell asleep.  Appleby sighed
with contentment and drifted away himself.